Taste.

This morning, after a four day hiatus, I was back at Bikram Yoga in the hot room. As I begin to countdown the days until Sunday, I'm planning on going every day this week - until I get on the plane to the Gold Coast. As anticipated it was hard, yet no tingly ears today. I really struggled with Pada Hastasana - there was no way I could get my head below my knees when usually I can. This seemed to be today's theme as all the head to knee, throat choke postures were more nose to knee. I wonder if it will be fixed by tomorrow?

This afternoon we wandered down the hill to the waterfront to go to the Taste Festival at the newly remodelled Princes Wharf Shed:

I must say that the absolute fortune squandered on renovating the shed has vastly improved the whole 'Taste' experience as it wasn't dark and dingy as it used to be:

And while I'm on the subject of the shed and I know it's 28 degrees in Hobart today, yet before we know it, it will be cold and wintery - fingers crossed they put an ice rink in the forecourt of the shed during winter for skating.

Back at the Taste, it was easier than previous years to find a table - it really is lovely sitting out amongst it by the water on a warm summer's day:

As usual, there was a fabulous selection of Tasmanian wine and beer yet the food really is just takeaway at restaurant prices and nothing particularly unique. We could have had curry yet resisted the temptation. We could have had French crepes yet we make them at home. The children could have had fish and chips yet nobody was up for it.

So we had......drumroll please.....Persian Kebab wraps:

Sushi:



And oysters:

See, nothing to write home about.

Here's Felix voluntarily tasting his first oyster:

Which he promptly backwashed into his bottle of lemonade. We were going home then until we bumped into friends - so we stayed and watched the entertainment:

Kiki and Pascal - he was English while she had a rather brash unpinpointable European  accent - I'd hazard a guess that she was trying to be Russian? He juggled lots of things, and she contorted herself through a tennis racket (minus the strings) and mercifully didn't dislocate anything in the process. She also squeezed a couple of chubby middle aged men from the audience into children's tutu's and coerced them into cavorting around the stage.

We are home and now that the children are tucked up in bed, we are sitting out on the deck, enjoying a glass of Tasmanian pinot & bbqing roquefort & organic pork sausages home made by Kim in the style of the man in the van at the Pezenas market on Saturday mornings:

The taste of southern France in South Hobart......Taste?

R